


The Circlet

by jardindesetoiles



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 21:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6256105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jardindesetoiles/pseuds/jardindesetoiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A birthday gift for the lovely Valinwhore, whose comic Seduction of Mairon inspired this piece of fic.  Happy birthday, dear!~</p><p>Mairon considers the weight of what occurred with Melkor during their meeting in the forge, and slowly loses himself in the process.</p><p>Song: Over and Over by Three Days Grace.  I do not own it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Circlet

**_I feel it every day, it's all the same_ **

Mairon stared at the disgusting golden circlet before him, wrath burning throughout his being at how the ores and gems would not bend to his will.  It was yet flawed, and how the Maia yearned to correct the minutest errors in the metal’s bonding.  Why would it not yield to him?  Had he already fallen so far from the grace of his Lords, that even these sullied elements deigned to ignore him?  In annoyance, he pounded at the imperfection.

**_It brings me down, but I'm the one to blame_ **

None could claim that he hadn’t tried day and night to hone his natural talents into only the finest of craftsmanship.  Almost from the moment he’d first embodied, the forge had been his only true home, and his Master, his only true role model.  In all endeavors the Lord Aule would attempt, Mairon would be right beside him, trying his best only to enhance the Vala’s works.  And how had he been rewarded?  With fixing this infuriating bit of jewelry.  Again, he let the hammer fall.  Again, he failed.

**_I've tried everything to get away_ **

Twice more, he pounded at the offending spot, but still it vehemently refused his correction.  Yelling in rage, Mairon threw the damned trinket aside and attempted in vain to stave off the memories threatening him.  A hand upon his cheek.  Harsh, cold lips pressing against his own.  A strong body nestling itself between his thighs.  And the weight of that same disgusting circlet upon his brow.

**_So here I go again_ **

A low, musical baritone that could have rumbled the whole forge.  Endless anger and sparks crackling through the air as Mairon tried only to save himself.

**_Chasing you down again_ **

That same indescribable voice speaking his name.  A pause, and then a betrayal.

**_Why do I do this?_ **

****

**_Over and over, over and over_ **

**_I fall for you_ **

Though Mairon would never admit it, Melkor had marked him that day, somehow.  He despised and wanted in some foreign, equal measure, and for what end the Maia could not hope to understand.  Why the hell did that idiot continue to invade his solitude?  Why the hell did _Mairon_ feel such indecent hunger for all that the dark Vala had shown himself to be?

**_Over and over, over and over_ **

**_I try not to_ **

All of it was wrong.  It could only be wrong.  Dousing the forge to its embers, he adjourned to bed with the idea of rest in his mind.  He slept that night, and the next, and the fortnight thereafter, but nothing could ease him.  Each night, terrifying voices and eldritch horrors twisted through his dreams.

 

**_It feels like everyday stays the same_ **

In the end, Mairon passed off the circlet to some other forge apprentice, claiming business.  He would never admit to anyone the real reason: that he had failed to mend its flaws.  The apprentice succeeded by some measure, though the repair was neither impressive nor as precise as Mairon himself might have done.  The knowledge burned.

**_It's dragging me down and I can't pull away_ **

In the meantime, he’d produced other works of great skill for his Master, laboring beyond what could reasonably be expected of any Maia of the forge; even Mairon.  In the quiet moments, he vascillated between deep hatred and deeper longing for the silent, secret promises Melkor had knowingly imparted.  Surely, the Vala enjoyed this act of torture upon Mairon’s spirit, though he refused to show himself and answer either way.

**_So here I go again_ **

In the end, the circlet which had proved so troubling went unwanted.  Aule had decided against it for some fey reason, and commissioned a new piece in silver, from Curumo.  Secretly, Mairon rescued the discarded object, so strangely dear, and hid it where none would ever look.

**_Chasing you down again_ **

When he was alone in his chambers, away from the prying eyes of his brethren, he took most giddily to wearing the jeweled circlet, the weight becoming something of an anchor to his body.  The flutter in his chest, which always followed, both thrilled him and left him appalled at himself.

**_Why do I do this?_ **

****

**_Over and over, over and over_ **

**_I fall for you_ **

Still, his dreams were haunted.

**_Over and over, over and over_ **

**_I try not to_ **

Still, he slept little and worked until his hands bled.

**_Over and over, over and over_ **

**_You make me fall for you_ **

Without realizing just what he was doing, Mairon began to count the changings of the light since Melkor’s last visit.

**_Over and over, over and over_ **

**_You don't even try_ **

He stopped counting after the first thousand.

****

**_So many thoughts that I can't get out of my head_ **

Just when Mairon believed that Melkor might never return for him, the Vala returned in the midst of shadow and darkness.  His stay proved just brief enough to taunt the Maia about his current project, and to make some veiled reference to the Maia’s secret of wearing that circlet.

**_I try to live without you, every time I do I feel dead_ **

That night, Mairon nearly burned the forge to the ground.  When Aule looked upon its smoldering remains, he suggested none-too-lightly that perhaps his chief Maia needed some time to heal from whatever seemed to be troubling him.  Mairon could not argue, even as handfuls of sharp and indignant words played at the edge of his tongue.  In shame, he departed the hall.

**_I know what's best for me_ **

For thirty turnings, he sat upon the highest cliff of Taniquetil and considered what he could possibly do to get himself back.  No conclusions came to him, so he returned to his chambers with an additional weight upon his chest.

**_But I want you instead_ **

For another thirty turnings, he lay in bed and stared at the wall.  He would not eat, nor drink, nor partake in any festivities, and he would take no visitors.  Even when the Lady Yavanna ventured to see him, Mairon turned her away, begging illness of the spirit.  He could plainly feel her concern, but even as it comforted him to know it, the thought of her worry caused his stomach to knot and twist with pain.

**_I'll keep on wasting all my time_ **

****

**_Over and over, over and over_ **

**_I fall for you_ **

At least, Mairon knew what he would have to do.  Though he did not feel keen on it, he resolved to seek Melkor’s fortress again, and to confront him.  He would tell the Vala to leave him alone once and for all, and he would be rid of that evil influence for the rest of his life, if he had any say.  He only hoped he could be sufficiently persuasive.

**_Over and over, over and over_ **

**_I try not to_ **

All the time, he continued to argue with himself about why he was going, and feared what might happen if and when he saw the Vala again.  Mairon thought it likely that he would either murder him, or merge with him.

**_Over and over, over and over_ **

**_You make me fall for you_ **

The latter option appalled him, so he tried his best to remember every single reason he had to be infuriated with Melkor.  Gazing at his own reflection in the mirror, he had a momentary urge to punch out his reflection, but thought better of it at the last moment.  Instead, he set the circlet upon his brow and admired the reflection.  When the memory of fingers and a voice began to return to him, he thought better of wearing the accessory and set it neatly aside once more.

**_Over and over, over and over_ **

**_You don't even try to_ **

Making sure to be unseen, Mairon snuck from the halls of his Lord Aule and, taking the form of a large crow, flew out into the fields and mountains beyond Almaren.  He _would_ confront Melkor, and he _would_ at last be rid of him.


End file.
